White and Gold
by maej26
Summary: Mike and Alex meet after the Battleground PPV for some alone time. (m/m slash)


**Title:** White and Gold

**Pairing:** Mike "The Miz" Mizanin & Alex Riley  
**Rating:** T  
**Summary: **Mike and Alex meet after the Battleground PPV for some alone time.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing except the stuff WWE doesn't own.

**A/N:** I'm actually working on another story right now, but that's gonna take a bit longer. And by a bit longer, I mean I have no idea how long, but it's a story I see so clearly in my head, so I know it'll get finished. In the meantime, this is just a quick one-shot I've been thinking about for a couple weeks because I knew Battleground was going to be in Tampa. I wanted to wait to see how the show would play out before I wrote it and also I couldn't decide how I wanted to structure it. Ended up deciding to go with first person present tense from Alex's POV and the fact that Miz won the IC Title (YAY!) managed to work out really well. How could Miz ever winning a title ever not?!

I've always consciously avoided writing in first person because it feels entirely way too personal, but since this is a short one and I really wanted to focus on Alex's feelings, it seemed like this was as good a time as any to try my hand at it. I have a feeling it's gonna be a long, long time before I do it again because I like to be rather _poetic_ with the narrative and writing in first person bleeds into the character way more than I prefer to have happen, if that makes any sense. Plus, it's way too limiting. Anyway, having said all that, I really do hope you like it. Comments are always appreciated ;) And ofc, thank you so much for reading!

**A/N (2):** I miss Mizley :(

* * *

There he is. The new Intercontinental Champion. He's the reason I stayed, the reason I subject myself to the ridicule from my colleagues. _Couldn't even weasel your way into the battle royal_, they say. _The only thing you were ever good for was carrying Miz's bags._ I try to brush it off, but it's hard not to take it personally. Deep down I wish I could yell at them, scream in their face the real reason why my career has flatlined. It's bubbling near the surface sometimes and I have to physically cover my mouth to keep my secret - _Our_ secret. It's not just mine. It's _his_ secret, too.

And there he is. Strutting towards me with white and gold displayed proudly on his shoulder. White and gold: a reflection of the man I know. Of the man I love. And a champion, even without a title. I would have gone home after the kickoff show wrapped up, but for _him_, and knowing how important tonight was for his career, I stayed. Even if it's just to be near him for two seconds as he passes by.

Just as he approaches me, he slows his pace. No, not quite. He's too smart to let that happen. Instead, time steps in and slows the pace, allowing me to take it all in. Fuck me, he's so cool. _Do you not all see it?!_ I want to holler the question in dismay, but of course I don't.

Mid-stride, he removes his sunglasses; eyes piercing me to my core. It's a wonder I'm still standing. I nod my head and smile coyly – self-aware, controlled. And his smile is so goddamned beautiful it makes me weep inside and want to pull him close. Wrap my arms around him and celebrate his victory like we used to. Back when we were allowed to. Although, with that smile I'm assured that we will and I can hardly stand the wait.

Unable to control my every inclination, I cock my head to the side, as if he's pulling me with him by an invisible tether. I want to let him win that battle, too, and I almost do. But no. It's not the place or the time. For a split second I curse myself for being so careless, but then I let it go. Instead, I find myself grateful for the momentary lapse because it allows me to witness something I wouldn't have otherwise. It's nothing that anyone else would notice, or care about, but to me, it's everything. He slides his designer shades back on and the realization that the gesture of taking them off was only for my benefit causes me to exhale sharply, as if I had been holding my breath. How does he always do that?

After our all too brief exchange, I head home. How strange it is to drive there and not have to spend the night in a hotel. And how strange yet that such a normal thing to do would be so strange.

I shower, though there's really no need to. It's not like sitting in a chair for thirty minutes requires much effort. But still, it's a way to pass the time until he gets here. Oh, just the thought of it, it almost doesn't seem real – being in the same city. It's been months since this has happened. If I had known then what I know now, I would have easily forgone sleep most nights.

After waiting almost two hours, I get into bed, propping my back against the headboard and I check twitter on my phone. I tried to put it off as long as I could because I know I'm nothing more than an afterthought these days, but curiosity gets the better of me – as it always does. I huff and roll my eyes. Did I really expect this time to be different? I sulk inside myself, wondering if I should have done something different, but when I feel the bed dip and look up to see him crawling towards me I realize not only did I do everything right in my life, but I am in no way an afterthought to the only person in this world whose opinion I value above all others.

He curls up next to me, peacefully looking up at me. That invisible tether isn't met with resistance this time and I sink down next to him, gazing into his eyes. Blue as blue can be. My cobalt sea of serenity. There's so much I want to say and do, but now that I'm finally allowed to speak and act on my every whim and fantasy, I find myself positively spellbound. It's a dream I've been dreaming for months finally come true. He's here. And more than that, he _chooses_ to be here. With me.

His eyes start to water, uninhibited to show genuine emotion. I know what he's feeling. I feel it, too. _Overwhelming relief._ The kind you can't control – the kind you don't want to control. Then, for the first time in what feels like forever, I reach out and caress his cheek. Such warmth. He sighs, his breath trembling.

"I know," I whisper.

With that, the relief begins to resemble fear. He looks worried and I know why he feels that, too – some things don't have to be spoken out loud. Though he only just got here, he knows he'll have to leave soon. We'll get what's left of the night and maybe part of the morning. I'm not sure yet when he'll have to leave, but it's inevitable. He'll be going to Miami and I'll be staying here. It'll be four weeks before we see each other again.

Just then, he pushes himself towards me, rolling me over onto my back and attaching his body to mine. His arm crossed over my chest, his leg over my leg. He melts into me so effortlessly. It's just as it should be. I let him hold me as long as he wants. I let him hold me because that means I get to hold _him_. I get to let the feeling seep into my bones, into every crevice of my memory so I'll remember what it's like for every lonely night that lies ahead of me. Maybe he's doing the same.

My fingers comb through his soft hair, massaging his scalp. I know how much he enjoys this type of affection and I relish the fact that I'm the one who gets to make him feel this simple pleasure. I'm the one who gets to show him just how special he truly is. He hums every now and then. I assume it's because it feels good, but it might also just be his way of letting me know he's still awake. Whatever the reason, each melodic note tugs at the corners of my mouth. For as much as the man talks, I never have been able to get enough of that voice.

After an undisclosed amount of time – because there's no way I'd look to my phone to check – he begins to shift; repositions himself slightly. Oh, that's why. To reach my neck. He kisses me there. A light feathering at first, which is quite ticklish, and then he opens his mouth and I feel the heat of his tongue on my skin. He tastes me before bringing his lips together. I moan. It sure doesn't take much. I turn to him as he props himself up by his forearm. Looks to me as if he wants to say something. So, courteously, I wait for that voice.

"Heath Slater? _Really?_"

His expression in conjunction with that sarcastic tone makes me laugh louder than I mean to. I swear it never gets old and I hope to God that's how it'll always be. My sights fixate on him again and I'm pleased that my boisterous reaction makes him grin. Good. Anything to make him smile. "No one took me seriously," I assure, running my hand through his hair once more and cradling the back of his head as I reach up to kiss him. But before I press my lips to his, I linger somewhat flirtatiously and whisper, "Besides, you know I couldn't say _you_." I attempt to follow through but he pulls away.

"Why not?"

I giggle again, but then I realize he's completely serious. "Mike…"

He shrugs. His face falls and the way I feel mirrors the way he looks. "I've taken so much away from you as it is. You don't have to pretend like you hate me if you don't want to."

"I thought that's what you wanted."

"I never _wanted_ it. I only thought it was necessary."

"And you don't anymore?"

"No," he says, placing his hand on my cheek.

That feeling of relief washes over me again. I can't help but wonder how many other things he'll think are no longer necessary in the years to come. But for now, this is more than enough. As a way to express how grateful I am to him, and _for_ him, I lean in and fulfill the unkept promise of a kiss I had made moments earlier. He allows me to move on top of him and deepen the kiss and it's so much more than an expression of gratitude. It's how I congratulate him on his big win. It's how I show him just how much I've missed him. And because I have no intention of falling asleep, I have the rest of the night to attempt to make up for all the time we've lost…over and over and over again.

* * *

_I know A-Ry has to fly to CT for the Raw preshow/backstage pass, but that's too much unnecessary info lol_


End file.
